


BioDome Post-Apoc AU

by Aelfrey



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Apocalypsestuck, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelfrey/pseuds/Aelfrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a snippet I wrote based on a post-apocalypse RP. Dave and Jade have gained entry to a biodome, a safe haven from the nuclear winter outside, but Dirk was shot by the guards for unknown reasons just before the elevator door shut, presumed dead. Dave deals with the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BioDome Post-Apoc AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CassanderRoshack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassanderRoshack/gifts).



> Inspiration: “Monsters” - Timeflies

You don’t know why you’re so broken, why the pain won’t stop. You keep thinking back on what you’ve done, the shattered crockery on the floor. The truth is you’re not sure you’re safe to be around. A childhood of being prepared for literally anything and now that you’re grown up you’re a complete mess.

Just like the bowl. The pieces cut your hands as you numbly pick them up, but you don’t feel it. Even when blood begins to drip on the linoleum, you stare at it in morbid fascination, and despite knowing that these are your hands, they don’t _feel_ like your hands. They belong to someone else, someone who can’t handle the creak of the heaters as they start to warm the apartment, and drops a bowl halfway out of the cupboard.

For once, you can’t measure how much time passes, just sitting there on the kitchen floor. You vaguely note when the front door opens and shuts again. A wave of anxiety washes over you, knowing that she’s going to see you weak. You slowly stand up and carefully turn on the sink faucet, holding your hands under it. The cool water stings, but the pain is a relief against a backdrop of emotionless numb. The dried blood slowly washes away, just as Jade enters the kitchen with groceries.

“Dave?” She hasn’t noticed yet. “What--What happened? Oh my god you’re bleeding!” She nearly drops the milk but manages to set it down without incident on the floor with a bunch of other bags, and moves in next to you. You wish she wouldn’t. “Oh no, your hands!” The concern in her voice rankles in your heart.

“It’s fine,” you mumble through grit teeth. You wish she’d just leave you alone. You can patch yourself up just fine. You’ve done it hundreds of times before.

“Dave, that is not fine!” she replies, hovering anxiously at your elbow. “That is very much in need of Neosporin and bandages!”

You glance at her out of the corner of your shades. “I said it’s fine, Jade.”

“Dave…” The look she gives you hurts a bit, and you suddenly feel a pang of guilt somewhere. The rest of you doesn’t listen.

“Jade. Stop it. I can handle this on my own.” The words are lifeless, and come from a mouth that doesn’t belong to you. Why can’t you stop saying them? “I don’t need you worrying and fussing over me for every little thing.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but then slowly closes it, her eyes taking on a resigned light. You wish she wouldn’t do that, either, because you know she’s disappointed, and you hate her disapproval. Or anyone’s, for that matter.

“Okay, Dave,” she says, turning away slightly. “If that’s what you want, why don’t you go to the bathroom and start on that? I’ll clean this up.”

You’d rather she didn’t, but she does need to be in the kitchen. Resentment fills your gut because you don’t want her to clean it up. You broke it. It’s your job. But you don’t say anything, and leave the room.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom a few moments later. You hate the way you look: the pale skin, near-white hair. The ridiculous shades that you used to think were cool. If they hadn’t been a present from a friend, you would break them. Instead you break the mirror.

You can hear Jade come running, and you lock the door. She tries the handle, then you can hear her muffled voice. “Dave? Dave are you okay?!”

“Go away, Jade.” You didn’t mean to sound so cold. But it’s too late.

The silence that follows is weighted, and you can hear her start to protest, a soft murmur of words, before there’s a soft thud against the door. You guess she’s probably sitting there with her back to it.

“Dave, I can’t do this alone,” she says, her voice breaking. “Please, I know you hate me for what happened, but I loved him too. Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but I… I need you.”

Your heart is still ice cold, and even her teary, broken voice can’t stir it. You distantly wonder what’s wrong with you, but you’re speaking again. “Quit bothering me. I’m fine, I don’t need your fucking pity, and I won’t be giving you any of mine.”

The soft sounds of crying make it through the door, and there’s a tiny part of you that softens, and you wish you hadn’t said that. Before it can start to set in, though, you hear her get up.

“Okay,” she says with a sniffle. “If that’s how you want it, then I won’t bother you anymore.”

Her retreating footsteps echo in your ears and your chest suddenly seizes up in panic. She abandoned you, just like he did. You nearly break down right there, but something stops you, deep inside. Be cool, be stoic. Don’t show emotion. Emotion is for the weak.

You raise a shard of mirror glass eye-level and stare at your jagged reflection. You don’t deserve to be alive. He should be the one here with her, not you. She’s the one he wanted. Not you.

You squeeze your hand around the sharp edges and barely wince at the blood and pain that blossoms in your palm. You just want the ache in your soul to go away.


End file.
